


a-z

by orphan_account



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alphabet, Fic, Love, Multi, War, god this was an english assignment i decided to post, if that makes sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27017545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: after the war.an english assignment, if you couldn't tell. probably really bad, but i wanted to put it up somewhere.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens - past - minor, Alexander Hamilton/Maria Reynolds
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	a-z

a-z.

After the war they went back to New York.

Back to New York, back to practicing the law, back to ink-stained fingers instead of blood-stained claws, back to their wives and to their children.

Children - they were not used to children; it had been years since they had laid eyes on one. Death followed them everywhere; not a place for the young.

Eyes glistening, Phillip listened over and over again to the tales of war and victory, of escaping death with honour and valiance. Farther away, Theodosia hugged her father tight, not liking the stories as much, then went to bed, and Burr sighed painfully - he needed somebody to tell the stories to.

(God was still there, of course, and he prayed every day, like a good Christian man ought - yet he found himself wondering whether He cared or not of the humble plights of a lawyer; then quickly scratched them away, _blasphemy._ )

Her hair - Eliza's beautiful hair - glistened in the moonlight, and Alexander wondered to himself how he had ever forgotten her; how Laurens had ever laid hold on his affections - but Laurens was dead, ambushed by the British from too-tall grass, and now he had Eliza.

Jest came easier now; in the camps there was no amusement other than what little could be scraped up from sticks and stones and mockery - but in New York there were things _to_ joke about, there was laughter, there was love - love that wasn't forbidden, wasn't judged, didn't result in banishment or stoning if you happened to slip - _God_ , he thought, _My Laurens is dead._

In the next few years only dif the grief fully set in; Eliza didn't ask what was wrong, she knew as well as any; she knew _him._ Knowledgeable gossips labelled him a sodomite, a heretic; she ignored them - she knew better - he would never betray her - it wasn't _betrayal_.

Later they moved to Philadelphia, the yellow fever set in, the town was quarantined, Eliza took the children upstate, he had to stay, he had to keep working, he had to get his plan through Congress. Pecuniary consolation was requested by a Mrs. Maria Reynolds, beautiful in her red dress - red as blood, a shark hunting for its prey, and of course he had to help her - of course - pretty women had always been his weakness - Eliza didn't say anything when he told her in shame as soon as she came home, just gazed at him - and somehow that was worse than the anger he had imagined.

Questions were asked when the affair was leaked by James Monroe - questions were an understatement. Raffish crowds gathered at his doorstep to jeer at him; Eliza told them to leave.

Speculation was one of the charges against him - he picked up a quill in fury - he was an honest man if nothing else - Eliza stood quietly by.

"The charge against me," read the finished pamphlet, "is a connection with one James Reynolds for purposes of improper pecuniary speculation; my real crime is an amorous connection with his wife, for a considerable time with his privity and connivance, if not originally brought on by a combination between the husband and wife with the design to extort money from me."

Unsubstantiated claims, the lot of them! - but his enemies were in the dozens.

Valiantly, courageously - hopefully if nothing else, Burr came quietly to his doorstep; it was the year of 1800, Eliza had forgiven him, Phillip had been shot in a duel defending his honor.

Waxy and practiced was the expression Burr wore - "Alexander!" he cried, clapping an eager hand on his shoulder, "I'm running for president! - Adams doesn't stand a chance, it's me against Jefferson - you've got the most power in the House - endorse me?"

Xanthochroic he looked then, despite his brownish hair, inhumanly pale in the dusk - "Of course," Alexander said to Burr, but when election came he voted Jefferson - Burr was a dangerous man, too dangerous for the presidency, too like _himself_.

_Young_ was all he could see when he looked in the mirror four years later - young - an immigrant from St. Croix - rosy from the salt air -

ready to die.

Zealousness abounded that night, the early morning of July 11th, 1804 - he was ready to embrace his death - he could see the other side - Washington gave a rare smile, his mother stood next to Phillip - Laurens led a soldier's chorus - the shot was fired, and Burr screamed "Wait!" -

his blood spilled red across the field.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment n kudos if you liked it!


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